


We Were Never Welcome Here At All

by Em6347



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 4x17, BAMF Jemma Simmons, Framework Grant Ward - Freeform, Gen, Grant Ward Isn't Hydra, Jemma Simmons Needs a Hug, Post-Episode: s04e17 Identity and Change, They're both true here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 01:11:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10651872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em6347/pseuds/Em6347
Summary: Jemma needs to give Ward his answers at some point.Or: How Jemma and Ward have a conversation and Jemma... airs her grievances.





	We Were Never Welcome Here At All

**Author's Note:**

> Set straight after 4x17  
> Title from 'Who We Are', by Imagine Dragons

“No-- Hang on-- Wait up-- You're telling me, that in the _real world_ , I'm _dead_? You didn't think that might be important to me?” Ward paced, back and forth across the few feet where in the real world, in the _right_ world (where Ward _was_ dead, and Mace was a well-meaning fraud, and Coulson was a strong leader as well as a good man, and Daisy hadn't been Skye for a very long time, and Fitz-), in _her_ world, there would be leather sofas, and discarded beers, and the remnants of some board game or another, and- and her team. Her _family_.

Jemma’s jaw clenched. She would have to be different here, too. She’ll have to be Daisy and Coulson and May and Mack, while they're… otherwise occupied. Niceties didn't fit into that equation.

“It crossed my mind. It just didn't come anywhere near top ten on my list of priorities. It still doesn't.” Ward whipped around, anger clear on his face, and despite the real possibility that he was about to attack her, Jemma was glad.

This Ward, the man that spat with anger when the real him finally emerged and - traitor to his own cause, whatever that happened to be on the day - revealed what a two-faced _bastard_ he was; _this_ Ward, she knew how to handle. But his fury fell away almost immediately at the sight of her, and Jemma was reminded again how _wrong_ this was as he sank down into one of the kidnap-chairs they'd occupied earlier.

“How--” He winced, and Jemma couldn't even feel vindictive over the situation because to do so was to acknowledge that this stupid, pointless piece of code was _Ward_ because that meant that _Fitz_ \- “How did I die?”

“That's a bit… complicated?”

“What?” He looked so bloody _bewildered_ , and Jemma threw her hands up in frustration but somehow they made their way to grip at her hair, and she told herself desperately that she was pulling hard enough to justify the tears in her eyes. This was a nightmare, and in some ways that was an accurate description and in some ways it wasn't, because this was a terrible scenario created by a traumatised brain (of sorts), but it was also, currently, totally inescapable.

It was cyclical really, like the plot of a bad time-travel film; time and time again the original team was torn apart and thrust back together, as inevitable as continental drift, or the rise and fall in entropy. Apparently, Jemma thought as she stared hopelessly at Ward, even death couldn't stop the pattern.

She had to be strong for her team, manage this until she could find-slash-rescue Daisy, and then together they could get them all out of this _sick_ world. Minus Ward, obviously. But at the moment, he was kind of her only ally. She needed him functional. Jemma collapsed into the neighbouring chair. She’d have to do this then; deflecting questions would only estrange her further.

“You, as Grant Ward, died on an alien planet halfway across the universe.” Ward gave her a disbelieving look.

“How-- I mean that's _crazy_ but, _how_ did I die?” _You need him._ How was she supposed to satisfy his curiosity, keep him on their side, and reveal that _Coulson_ had been the one to kill him? She was doomed; they were all doomed. But it was up to her, now. She had to try.

“Asphyxiation due to crushed lungs.” She held her breath, hoping that something would stop this line of questioning. Alas, Ward leaned forwards in an uncharacteristic show of desperation.

“ _What_ crushed my lungs?” The question sounded almost begging. Still, she could lie. She wasn't the doe-eyed scientist anymore; she’d been a mole in Hydra, a mole in 'Real SHIELD’, trapped for months on an alien planet and tortured as Fitz’s _incentive_.

Fury broke over her like a wave, like a bloody _tsunami_.

 _Ward_ was responsible for all of that. He'd betrayed them and dropped them to the bottom of the ocean so that Fitz, _her_ Fitz, had been left hurt and _without her_. He'd terrorised Daisy and killed Rosalind and tried to kill Andrew and tortured Bobbi. He'd tortured _her_.

So what if this wasn't the real Ward? This was as good as she'd ever get and he deserved everything, all the pain she could inflict.

Jemma had stood up at some point; her hands were once again tangled in her hair. She yanked them out in exasperation. She had to get a handle on this, had to remember her team. Ward was still staring at her, and he looked almost _afraid_.

She was not prepared for the aftershock, the second wave that rocked her at the sight of him, _afraid_ when she was the one that felt her lungs constrict and her adrenaline spike at the _sight_ of him, when _she_ still had to rely on _him_.

“Phil Coulson’s prosthetic hand.” Her voice was like a steel-tipped whip, and Ward recoiled from the force of it. He looked stricken, and Jemma’s rage only grew, a burning itch under her skin, as Ward struggled to speak.

“ _Why_ would Coul _-_ -”

“Take your _bloody_ _pick_!” Jemma felt explosive; she felt righteous _. How_ _dare he._ She'd seen his expression, his instinctive reaction, and after everything, _everything_ , Grant Ward had the _nerve_ to look betrayed.

“Believe me, he had _plenty_ of motivation. We _all_ did. Coulson killed you, but he was at the back of the bloody queue! May fractured your larynx; Fitz sucked the oxygen out of your cell; Hunter shot you. Daisy-- _Skye_ shot you, four times. I tried to kill you, tried to _incinerate_ you.”

Ward was blank. Frozen. It wasn't what she wanted; she wanted to see him _suffer_.

Jemma came back to herself all at once, the facts, the truth, rushing up to meet her, and she staggered under the weight of it, fell back into the chair. It didn't matter. None of it mattered. This Ward hadn't committed those crimes, and even if he had, if he was the real Ward, there still wouldn't be any remorse to see. That mess of complexes and personality disorders was better off dead.

Jemma couldn't deal with her massive, self-engineered obstacle right now, couldn't even peek through her fingers to gauge his reaction, undoubtedly on the scale somewhere between pissed-off and bloody murderous. She’d messed up, and in a way it didn't even change anything because she was still alone and Daisy was still kidnapped and probably being tortured right this minute and-

“Why do you hate me?” She looked up, and there was none of the soldier, spy, fighter in him now; this wasn't intel gathering. This was personal. “Why does Skye hate me? _Your_ Skye?”

“I--” Where could she even begin? “In my world, it's not like this.” She gestured vaguely, glancing around the shadowy, dusty copy of their base. “SHIELD won; Hydra lost. Sort of.” Ward raised his eyebrows. “Essentially.”

She shook her head in the frustrated, distracted way that meant ‘Fitz, you take over’, and her throat constricted when there was only silence. She was alone, but she still had a mission, even if it was the furthest thing from sanctioned. Ward made a ‘carry on’ movement with his eyebrows that was far too reminiscent of the pre-Hydra version of him. Jemma felt ill.

“SHIELD became a clandestine government agency, handling… the unusual things, but Hydra was a-- a _parasite_ inside SHIELD.” Ward shrugged.

“I'm glad--” She raised her eyebrows at him, pointedly, “- _-ish_ , to hear it, but what does that have to do with me?”

“ _You-_ -” Something stopped her; she couldn't finish. She- she was _scared_. Of what? That he wouldn't believe her? That he'd call her a liar? That she'd change this Ward's loyalties?

“You're afraid.” Her head snapped up. She recognised that tone, but he was _code_ , just an imitation. It wasn't possible. That didn't seem to matter anymore. Maybe it never had. “Some emotions, especially fear--”

“--Will paralyse you.” She finished, because she didn't think she could bear to hear him say it. Ward stared at her.

“Yeah.” Jemma remembered that occasion, clambering up the fallen tree. She remembered it all, honestly. _That I made you a promise_... _you monster...I'm disappointed in--_ It was time to get on with things. She could work with Ward now, for the same reason she'd tried to kill him before: her team needed her. Fitz needed her.

“You, as always it seems, were the double-agent.”

“I'm-- I was still a spy for SHIELD?” Her silence was heavy with meaning, and Jemma glanced sideways at him as his expression changed and he surged up from his chair. “I was _Hydra_?”

“Yes.” What else could she say? Certainly nothing remotely sympathetic came to mind. Ward was pacing again.

“And I betrayed you, and Skye?”

“Yes.” He slumped into the chair once more.

“That's why you both hate me. No wonder, I can't blame you.” Jemma sighed. She'd been honest enough already; another painful truth that might actually _help_ their cause wasn't too much of a hardship.

“ _I_ hate you, don't doubt it. Daisy… doesn't.” Ward didn't move from his position: elbows on knees and head in his hands, but his shoulders tensed.

“You could be lying. To convince me to help you.” His voice was slightly muffled; he hadn't moved his hands.

“I could, but I'm not. It pains me to say it, believe me. And I don't understand it, but there's always been _something_ , between you, and it's never really been hate.” She chose not to mention that it had often been some variation of pity, or strong dislike.

Ward was still and quiet for a long time. Jemma alternately watched him and gazed at the room around them, trying to overlay this world with the real one, as it gleamed in her memories. She was sure it would seem dull in comparison, when they returned; she remembered the jarring reality of everything after her rescue from The Planet. Wasn’t it strange that they'd never given it a name?

“Okay.” Ward nodded to himself, and rose to his feet. “Okay.”

Jemma didn't stand, just sat there, suddenly paralysed (just as both Wards had warned) by her own helplessness. She kept her face blank. She would be different here, better at convincing and bargaining. Manipulating. She'd have to be. Ward, surprisingly or not, turned out to be an easy place to start.

“I'll help you find Skye. And... I'll help you get out of here.” His words from earlier come back to her: _I'd die for her_. Well. They would see, one way or another. It was enough for now.

“Let's go.” Jemma was already moving as she spoke, but she stopped in the doorway, turned back towards him. “Ward, thank you.” He nodded, and Jemma knew that he was well aware how this might end. Ward motioned silently to the door.

  
Right. They had a mission: Daisy Johnson.

**Author's Note:**

> This practically wrote itself in one afternoon, born from my love-hate relationship with Ward, my love-only relationship with Simmons and my frustration at how the AoS writers just ignore previous series' events when it suits them.
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated thank you muchly!


End file.
